Mugglehood
by Damian Cross
Summary: Hermione thinks she knows the world. Draco thinks he owns it (and all the ladies in it). But their beliefs are sorely tested when they get thrown in a foreign country to live as muggle uni students for an entire year. Together. And imagine, to their horror, that they actually find out the other isn't so bad after all-that they could, possibly, even become best friends?
1. Chapter 1

So. Here it is- _another_ story from Damian Cross. It's a work in progress, so hopefully (fingers crossed) I'll finish it! It's in a different style than what I've done before, I think. The characters are different. I've thought long and hard about my new Hermione and Draco, and thought that, well, I've written about bittersweet star-crossed lovers with war and all those gory details (Draco and Hermione), and bitchy manipulative Hermione, and annoying bully Malfoy (Cynic), anti-social Hermione and misunderstood celebrity Draco (Muggle Studies), and a Hermione who was slowly going insane (Truth of Time), and thought. Hm. What's next?

Then that lightbulb went _click_! And I thought- well, what about a sarcastic, mean Hermione? A teenaged girl who thinks she knows everything, but really doesn't? One that wasn't going insane, exactly, but has her issues. And, to her horror, a fun-loving Draco, who hits on all the girls (including Hermione-sometimes) and thinks he owns the world (and the ladies in it), but really doesn't?

And what if they attended a muggle university together? Living together? All the while juggling club events, teen drama, and-_oh my god_- muggle technology?

What if, as opposed to all the Dramione's out there, they don't get together as a couple? What if they became something more meaningful, like **SPOILER ALERT,** became best friends who share with each other everything? This is just a warning to all those wanting a fluffy romance. You'll get that, but not between Draco and Hermione. Instead you'll find them falling into a heartwarming friendship, forming a bond that no boyfriend or girlfriend could ever give them. Because let's face it- it's so much more _fun_ when they can complain about the opposite gender to each other, and discuss dating techniques while breaking out beers or ice cream and sobbing over failed relationships or having the other hold your hair back while you barf after too many drinks. Or giving the 'I'm the best friend and if you break their heart, I'll effing break your bones and make a stew out of it' talk. Fun, right?

That's why, to not mislead people coming to read romance between them, I put the genre as general/drama instead of romance. And also why I'm warning you right now.

So_ that_ was a long author's note. Almost a chapter. Haha. Sorry. On with the story!

Oh, and review please -insert puppy dog eyes-

* * *

**Before It All Began**

**Location: Ministry of Magic- Auror Department**

**Time: 10.36 am, two weeks before departure.**

"Well?"

I flinched, but mustered enough of my dwindling supply of self control and raised my head instead of my wand.

There were four of them: Kingsley, with his signature gold earring, McGonagall and her perpetual furrowed brow, Graham, the newly appointed twitchy Warden, and Harry, who had the grace to look ashamed of himself. The "Big Four" who held authority when it came to matters of Azkaban and Hermione Granger, all seated behind a nice, oak table while_ I_ had to make do standing.

"Well?" I repeated, managing to sound both condescending and polite at the same time, "_Well _what do _you_ think I feel about this?"

"Hermione…" Kingsley urged, "Please, we need you to do this."

I turned to Harry. "Are there no Aurors left?" I accused, "Yesterday there was a whole department of wizards and witches skipping about, and suddenly when work comes along, you dump it all on _me_?"

Harry mumbled something, his face scarlet.

"What?" I barked.

"We needed volunteers. And nobody volunteered."

"Well, neither did I! Does this-" I gestured in the region of my furious face, "scream out 'Oh, pick me! Pick me, _please_'?"

McGonagall sighed, and I forced myself to calm down. I tried to remember that essay I had read just last night, titled: How To Win Every Debate. _Step One_, I thought, reading the floating words in my mind, _always remain in control of your emotions. _

Oh.

Never mind then.

"I thought you were positively ecstatic with the opportunity?" My old Transfiguration professor prodded. Her eyebrows, if possible, drew further towards each other. You could hold a piece of paper with that crease.

"I was, when I thought I was going _alone_."

"This is a very delicate and important experiment," Graham squeaked, his voice a complete mismatch with his six feel tall muscular frame and failed mustache. "The inmate has been carefully chosen under a strict process. If this is a success, then perhaps the East Wing of Azkaban will no longer be needed."

I began to pace. "Do you know what this feels like?" I asked, "I feel like you just kicked me in the stomach-actually, no, I'll probably prefer that right now. No, it feels like you promised me a cookie and dangled it front of me until I'm drooling about the chocolate chip goodness, and finally, when you_ do _give me a cookie, it turns out to be filled with raisins instead. _Raisins._" I emphasized.

Harry looked amused, "Draco Malfoy is a raisin?"

"He is the _enemy_," I spitted out, "of a chocolate chip fanatic."

Kingsley sighed. "I have another meeting to attend," he announced, effectively dismissing us all. "Please, do give it some more consideration."

"Of course," I said sweetly, "And after a deliberating amount of _consideratio_n, I have decided to accept."

Graham dropped his jaw. "Really?"

"Really," I said, "but only if you are willing to provide compensation."

Kingsley turned to McGonagall, who hadn't budged an inch. "You taught her too well," he told her crossly. "Now look what you've done!"

"I apologize," Minerva said, deadpanned. But her twinkling, mischievous eyes betrayed her.

"Fine. Give me a copy of your terms before six today," He swept out of the conference room, followed by a bouncing Graham, and, after a stiff nod, by McGonagall.

"Oh, shut up," I snapped at Harry, who was snickering.

"I expect updates," he looked at something wonderful and far away, "The Account of How Granger and The Ferret Drove Each Other To The Loony Bin. Bestseller, I guarantee you. Can I have an autograph, pretty-please?"

I smacked the quill in his hand away, "Quite the actor, aren't you? Mr. I'm-Here-To-Support-My-Friend-But-Really-Here-To-Watch-The-Show?"

Harry winked, "Right on, Granger, right _on_ _the mark_. Now please get out, Ron and the other Aurors have planned a little 'I GOT OUT OF IT' party here in ten minutes. We appreciate your participation, and solemnly congratulate you on your promotion."

He propelled me out of the room, and I slammed the door shut before he could. Petty, perhaps, but oh it felt so_ good_.

The euphoria of my short-lived victory lasted only about a millisecond before I stomped away and apparated. My first condition, I decided, was that my apartment had to be a five-star quality. Six stars, if possible. Complete with surround-sound, a gigantic bathtub, beanbags, and all the albums of my favorite bands.

I frowned. I needed something more petulant than that. Something that would make Harry go on a wild chasing frenzy.

Something…_evil._

Oh, the _possibilities_!

* * *

**Location: Azkaban- East Wing (Where offenders accused of violence to muggles are kept)**

**Time: 3.06 pm, two weeks before departure.**

The first thing I saw when I turned around the corner, was the sign "Raisins, anyone?" painted in bold, red paint and hanging in full view of all the other inmates.

I tore it down, scowling.

"Malfoy!" I yelled, "Get out here now!"

"Kind of difficult, you see, seeing as I'm _locked up_."

I whirled around, and miscalculated the energy needed. I ended up turning about ninety degrees too far. I quickly reoriented myself. Our eyes met.

For a moment, words failed me. _This _is that arrogant bastard that attacked the poor muggle girl? Him? I could barely recognize the scrawny, hairy, painfully malnourished boy as the almighty Draco Malfoy who once bounced healthily across the pavement as an adorable ferret.

"Merlin's Pants!" He exclaimed, pointing at me. I looked around, thinking that a prisoner had broken out from behind me. There was nobody. I turned back.

"What?" I asked, not really sure how to speak to him. How _do_ you talk to a person who bullied you all throughout school, tried to murder your favorite headmaster, and then broke down sobbing in a girls' bathroom? He looked incapable of even _standing_.

"You've gone seriously fat!"

Then he fell about, clutching his stomach as he laughed madly.

Any sympathy I had evaporated. It condensed into pure, crystalized fury.

"I. Am. Not._ Fat_!" I screeched, startling his neighbor who had been snoring peacefully. "I am_ so _sorry for not being a size zero stick on heels!"

"You and me both, Granger, you and me both."

"Er, so…" Graham suddenly loomed above me. "I see I don't have to make introductions."

"What?" I sounded taken aback, "but…but… are you saying that_ this _little boy whose life ambition is to follow in the footsteps of a pygmy puff is _the _Draco Malfoy Extraordinaire?"

Malfoy snarled. "What did you call me?"

I cupped my mouth and said, very slowly and loudly, "I CALLED YOU A CUDDLY PET, YOU KNOW, LIKE A FERRET?"

He snapped, and sprung to his feet. Oh, so he _could _stand. Good.

"At least my mother didn't mate with a mountain troll," he hissed, his voice dripping with poisoned sugar.

I feigned hurt, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know your father had an affair. Is that why you're so mean to me? Because I got the better end of the genes?"

"Stop sprouting nonsense," he said, scowling. He tapped on his neighbors shoulder through the bars, "Hey, what are genes?"

"Pants," he mumbled, and rolled over snoring.

I snickered. Perhaps agreeing to take Malfoy was the perfect plan. My counselor had said I needed a form of stress release.

"Moving along," Graham jumped in hastily, "Malfoy has been doing homework, so he shouldn't have too many problems adjusting to his new life. Today was just so you two could meet, but obviously…"

I tried to look ashamed.

"Draco, you're getting out today, but don't mess up or it's another life sentence tagged on." Keys jangled loudly as the warden unlocked the door. No magic allowed in the East Wing.

Malfoy stretched, exposing a small bit of stomach that I never wanted to see again. Although I wouldn't mind seeing Graham's- the man must work out eight hours a day to maintain his figure. _Da-amn._

_"_Too old for you," Malfoy retorted, smirking.

My cheeks flushed as I realized my covert sneaking glance wasn't so covert after all. "Shove it up where you came from," I shot back.

"Be nice," Graham ordered, and marched the both of us to his office. It would have worked if he didn't squeak so much. If only he had Morgan Freeman's voice and shaved off that puny stab of hair he called a mustache._ One fine male specimen for order, madam and mademoiselle, do I hear thirty galleons? _

The door swung shut behind us, and Graham gestured for us to sit down. I quickly snagged the one with a cushion on it. Malfoy had to make do with the one they use to interrogate prisoners.

_Granger: One, Malfoy: Nil_, I thought, quite pleased with my head start.

Graham handed us identical looking folders. "Passport, School I.D. card, birth certificate, references of past apartments you've rented, letter of admission, transcripts of grades from the schools you were in, amongst other forged important documents."

I was quite impressed. "How did you manage it all?" I asked.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Magic, _duh_," Malfoy answered for him. "Are you_ sure_ she's qualified as a witch?"

"Every bit as much as you quality for the bouncing animal show," I said, just as sweetly.

We glared at each other.

"So, Mr. Potter will organize transportation and living arrangements for you both. He will meet you here next week to give to you your tickets, keys, and bank cards."

Malfoy rubbed his hands together in glee, "Money I can use!" He punched the air.

"Granger is in charge of expenses," Graham announced.

I so, so, so very much enjoyed the look of utter disbelief and dawning horror on his face. Y_es, that pose-perfect! Click-click, flash! Now turn a little bit more to your left, please, gotta capture the whole expression!_

"Don't worry," I assured him, "Mummy will give you lunch money."

"Hey, Warden Graham," Malfoy said, cranking up his charm, "if I get a job, will I be able to use that money without Granger's interference?"

Graham visibly relaxed, falling under his spell, "Well, of course-you earned it, after all. But you still must report to Granger your whereabouts."

"I'm getting stalked?!"

"You are not a free man, Draco Malfoy," Graham said, sternly, "if you escape or do not follow Granger's orders, you will be thrown back here and left to rot."

God, I loved the man.

"Malfoy, I suggest you review what you've learned in these past few weeks and commit it all to memory. The muggles must not suspect that you are a wizard."

"Study," For some reason, Malfoy seemed especially eager, "Of course, right away."

"What have you been learning?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Social Norms of the Muggle, and Their Habitat," He answered seriously, "It's like learning about an entirely different species."

"That's a load of utter rats' ass," I sighed, "Muggles live in houses, just like how we do. _Duh_."

He waggled a finger at me. "Perhaps, my dear mountain troll stalker, perhaps. But the question we must ask is: how is the house operated? How do they survive without house-elves?"

"Easy," I scowled, "They do the housework themselves instead of sitting high and mighty in their play-pen."

"Lay off my play-pen, Granger," he warned, "I only just re-decorated."

"So, everything is probably obsolete, then?" I said innocently, "with you being in prison for the last year or so."

"You know that ugly, big, gaping hole you call a mouth? Yeah-_shut it_."

Ooh, I touched a _nerve _there. What fun!

Graham sighed. "Dismissed," he said, and pointed out the door, "the_ both_ of you."

We rose and walked out. As the door started to close, I heard Graham mutter, "are they honestly _eighteen_? Acting like a couple of children, the both of them!"

"Never underestimate the wisdom of children," Malfoy said seriously, "_adios_, my fellow ex-and soon to be not ex-school mate." He stuffed his hands in his pant's pocket and wandered away to the exit.

_Funny,_ I thought, standing stock still. _That was what _I _was going to say._

* * *

**Location: Azkaban- Leon Graham's Office**

**Time: 2.59 pm, one week before departure**

"HERMIONE!"

I plastered on my best innocent smile, "Oh, hello there Harry. Pleasant day?"

He scowled, "No thanks to _you_. What. The._ Hell?_" He shook out my list violently. He was so annoyed his glasses were all foggy. He pushed it up with a sweaty finger, and read the first line. "_A rubber duck with the face of Popeye, complete with a cigar and smoking spinach. Must be water proof and can withstand high temperatures._"

"Preferably with his kick-ass tattoo," I added.

"And _then_-" his glasses slipped again, and he huffed angrily, "_a cat-sized room that faces west, with a window seat where Crookshanks can enjoy the setting sun. Must have a playground and sound-proof walls so he can listen to cat-soothing music._"

"Vital," I snapped my fingers, "Oh, and I forgot to add that Crookshanks must travel with me on the plane. First Class, with caviar and fur grooming kit provided."

"You are being a total brat, you know that, right?"

"That's the plan, my dear friend, that's the plan." I patted him on the shoulder. "How'd that party go, by the way?" I continued walking without stopping to hear his response. "Good day to you, too!"

"Since you can't see me," Harry yelled, "I'd like you to know that I'm giving you the V sign right now!"

I waved as a response and whistled down the hallway. _Ah, sweet, sweet revenge._

"Trouble in Potter-dise?" Malfoy's sneaky little voice slithered from inside Graham's office. "What's the problem? Did he finally ditch you for Weasel?"

"He wishes," I said, sitting down next to him, "But I'm too pretty and irresistible."

Malfoy choked on his butter beer. "Please tell me you don't believe in that delusion."

"It's time to you reacquainted yourself with the Outside, Malfoy. I got _seven_ invitations for Valentines."

He snorted, "Yeah, and, which one_ isn't_ related to you?"

_How did he know? _

"One of my cousins is adopted," I said stiffly. "And we had a lovely time, I'll have you know. Chocolate, flowers, good music…the works."

"Corrupting children is frowned upon in our society," Malfoy leaned over and curled a strand of my hair around his fingers. "Honestly, do you_ ever _use conditioner?"

"My hair is none of your concern," I leaned away, wincing as my hair was pulled.

"Relax, sweetheart," he grinned, "today I'm a new and free man. The ladies will be fighting to get with _this_." He actually had the audacity to wink at me while puffing his chest out at the same time. _Ugh!_

The door banged open, and Harry strode in with a hefty package cradled in his arms. He tossed it onto the desk, and immediately Malfoy lunged to grab it.

Turning it upside down, out dropped a key and two airplane tickets. Malfoy frowned. "That's it?"

"Enjoy. See you two in a year's time." Harry spun on his heels and stomped back out.

"W-wait!" I called out, "Why is there only _one key_?"

My best friend face split into a giant cheshire grin. "Why?" He asked, "well, why not?"

"YOU BASTARD!" Malfoy and I shouted in unison.

Harry answered by slamming the door shut in our faces.

"I sure hope the walls are thick," Malfoy winked suggestively at me, "I like my girls loud."

"Go tell it to someone who cares," I retorted, and snatched the package from him. "We leave in a week. Don't be late."

"How am I supposed to get to the airport?"

I shrugged, "your problem."

"So you're just going to leave me here? Oh, honey, _please_ don't do that to me!" He feigned puppy dog eyes. "I'll make it worth your while, promise."

"Seriously?" I yelled, my patience worn paper thin, "You insult me, my looks, and my parentage, and then you start flirting and being a total perverted _creep_? God! Make up your mind!"

He opened his mouth.

"-You know what? I don't want to know." I stood up. "I have more important things to do than to sit around looking at a homeless santa._ Shave_, for Merlin's sake!"

"Like talking to a clipboard?" Malfoy slipped in smoothly.

I froze. "What are you talking about?" _Oh no, don't tell me _**_he_**_ knows! Please, please, please-_

"Don't give me that poor, innocent look, Chipmunk, you know _exactly_ what I'm talking about. What caused it? Weasel dumping you for that tasty morsel of Lavender? Or was it because your one true love was locked up in prison? I'm free any day, baby, just a Facebook status away."

I don't know what stunned me. The fact that he knew at least part of the truth, or that he actually knew what _Facebook _was.

"Social networking site," he supplied, rather unhelpfully. "Honestly, and you call yourself a muggle."

"Muggle-_born_," I corrected. I grabbed the doorknob and wrenched the door open.

I nearly made it out before his slimy little voice whispered, "tell your fellow lunatic friends I said hi."

It took every ounce of control to not hurl him into the wall. He snickered.

"Until next week, my dear unattractive pet! I know you can't wait!"

I slammed the door.

* * *

**Location: Dr. Hopkins Office.**

**Time: 3.35pm, one week before departure.**

I paced along the length of the rug, fuming. "He called me a lunatic!" I yelled, flinging my arms in frustration. "That stupid, dumb, idiotic, foolish-"

"-Same thing," Dr. Hopkins murmured.

"-Pretentious, manipulative_ creep_! How dare he talk to me like that? And to think that I have to spend an entire year with him! A year! I thought it was bad enough to look at his face for several hours a day, but no! My dear, now-ex-best friend goes and decide to make us live together! He thinks it's funny! Ha! Funny! Well, I'm not laughing. How is it hilarious? God! And that red-headed twin of his! Rolled around my carpet-_my_ carpet- clutching his stomach like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard! Well, I'll give him something to roll around for-"

"-Hermione, please, sit down." The petite woman pointed at the couch. "_Sit_."

I sat, glaring.

"Have you done what I asked for?" She peered at me over her clipboard. _Damn Malfoy for being right._

"I'm nearly there," I mumbled, looking at my knees. "I'll do it, honest. I'm just really busy right now and-"

"-It is extremely_ important_," she stressed, "that you find yourself a proper outlet before your energies are directed into inappropriate actions."

"I know," I sighed, "I'll find one."

"And, just so you know, hunched over a book isn't a good idea."

"What? _Why?_"

"You can't express yourself by reading. Maybe if you wrote-?"

I snorted. "Yeah, _writing_. And what am I going to write? 'Dear diary, today I expected chocolate chip and got ferret flavor instead.' _Ooh, _exciting!"

Dr. Hopkins looked at the wall behind me. Hanging from it was a little frame, the words, "Third Rule: No Sarcasm Allowed." was stitched evenly in bright blue thread. I wanted to grab a pair of scissors and rip the entire thing to pieces, scissors be damned._ Happy, peaceful thoughts, Hermione, no violent fantasies in Dr. Hopkins office!_

"How about music?"

"I like songs," I said, "but if reading is a no-no, then I suppose listening is too."

"You don't like singing?"

I laughed, "Have you even heard me sing before? Oh wait, you're still alive; of course you haven't."

Dr Hopkins looked amused. "I must say," she said slowly, as if thinking whether she should carry on, or abort immediately, "that the person your teachers described is very different to the girl in front of me."

I snorted. "I should think so. Miss I've-never-been-tortured-before is _history_. Did you know that I'm considered a miracle? That I was subjected to hours of torture, and got off only with a mild personality change? That there are people out there-" I nodded at the photo of the Longbottoms blinking on her desk, "who lose their entire _minds_?"

"It is all very admirable," she said, rather drily, "but, permit me to say this,_ they_ at least are trying their best to regain their sanity. You, on the other hand, seem to be rather enjoying your newfound bluntness. Others might say you use the torture as an excuse to put people down."

"Well then," I said, as politely as possible, "you can tell _others_ that they're delusional, and should perhaps book an appointment with you."

"Duly noted," and she scribbled something down on that infernal clipboard of hers. I could almost imagine what she's writing: _Patient is extremely insane. Prescribe medication __immediately__. And remember to pick up the Daily Prophet on the way home._

Her wand emitted a faint whistling noise. She put the clipboard away. "It seems our time is up, Hermione. Now, I understand that you will be going overseas?"

"An entire year," I said, with absolute relish.

"Well, then, we should continue our session next week."

I choked, "what? Did you not understand yourself woman? I'll be _away_. As in, out of the country. As in, not seeing your cardboard cut-out face for an entire year!"

"I don't see why that matters," the doctor crossed her legs with an elegance of a smug cat. _No offense, Crookshanks,_ I thought hastily.

"There's going to be oceans between us," I pointed out, "I can't just fly in here whenever I like."

"You'll be going to a muggle university, correct? An entire year without wands, magic, or contact with the wizarding community, except in emergencies?"

I threw up my hands, "At last!" I exclaimed, "The doctor understands!"

And then, to my utter surprise and horror, she ducked underneath her desk and pulled out a very ordinary laptop. It was even a _macbook pro_. Maybe I should become a psychiatrist; the Ministry issued me with an ancient Acer Aspire 57372 that took up a whole heap of space and precious weight. How much did the Ministry pay for my sessions? A fairy ransom?

She opened it and pointed out the webcam to me. "Skype," she said, clearly and slowly. "It's an-"

"-I know what it is!" I half-screamed, "I am a muggle-born!"

"Well, it's settled then. Next week, same time, right after you settle in. How's Tuesday? Good? Excellent. See you then." Then she basically pushed me out her door.

It wasn't until I dumped my handbag on the sofa at home, did I think: How will she manage to connect to the internet? Stroll into a McDonalds on Main Street? Break into a muggle home?

* * *

**Location: Hermione's flat, London.**

**Time: 10.58pm, the day before departure**

_Giggle. Giggle. Chortle. Giggle._

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" I screamed, throwing my pillow at the wall. It probably wasn't the most effective thing to make a resounding crash, but it did make me feel better, even if I had to crawl out of bed and pick it up again.

"Sorry, Hermione!" Ron's muffled voice shouted. "I thought-"

"-Exactly!" I yelled, "You _thought!_ You should never _think! _You're Ronald Weasley, for Merlin's sake!"

"God, harsh much?" Lavender's voice mumbled. Loudly. "Let's go to my place. And why are the walls so thin?"

"The workers scamped on this place," Ron sighed. I heard the door open, and footsteps on the wooden floorboards as they walked into the hallway. Keys jangled and the lock turned.

"If she's such a jumpy sleeper, then why doesn't she put up a sound-proof spell?"

"_Because_," I replied, my temper on a very short fuse, "my wand is with Kingsley at the moment, or else I damn would have!"

"Oh right," Lavender breezed, "going on that trip into mugglehood, aren't you?"

"Thank the heavens," I mumbled into my blanket.

"Don't forget your party tomorrow!" Ron called out.

They left at last, Lavender giggling down the entire length of the way from Ron's flat to the staircase. I'm so glad that Ron left me for her; she made me realize what a fool I was to have fallen for such an idiot man-child. Our break up made the front page of Witch Weekly, I never told them that the 'anonymous good friend' who spilled the beans was actually me.

I rolled over and stared at my alarm clock, my mind hovering over the memories I had tried to bury. As the seconds went by, one by one they resurfaced in rhythm to the _tick-tock_ of the clock, taunting and skipping, and refusing to go away.

_"What the hell happened to you?" Harry shouted, his glasses askew and face prune red, "you weren't like this before! How could say that to Ginny?"_

_"That she's an absolute coward in the face of confrontation? I was just telling the truth, Harry. She needs to know."_

_"I want you," he said, very coldly, "to go away. Now. And don't come back until you're ready to apologize."_

_Why? I had wondered, why should I admit I was wrong, when in fact I wasn't? Why? _

_I watched as the man I thought was my best friend vanish into thin air. Two friends in one day. Gone. What was wrong with them? Why can't they accept the truth?_

Another memory. Ron.

_"I just can't," he mumbled, face buried in his hands, "I can't pretend I love you anymore. I thought I did- actually, I think I really did love you. But not the you now, the you before. What happened, Hermione? Why are you like this?"_

_"Nothing happened!" I snapped, "this is me! Me, me, me, me! If you can't accept that, then perhaps it is best that we just remain as friends."_

_He looked up. "Friends, Hermione? Do friends put each other down? Do friends gossip and insult each other? I don't think we're very good friends."_

_I felt cold all over. "What are you implying?" I asked, but knowing and dreading the answer._

_"I think," he licked his lips, "that I can't be friends with you anymore. It's just too difficult."_

_Three friends in one day._

My head hurt. I reached over and gulped down the glass of water on my bedside table. Breathed in and out, in and out. Trying to clear my mind. But they just kept on coming, piling onto each other, tumbling out of that room I had tried to lock up.

_"Do you know why you're here?" Kingsley looked at me, pity in his eyes. _

_"No," I said, hating the way he spoke down to me like I was a naughty child. "Why?"_

_"I have been informed that-" He sighed, "that you're...different."_

_"Why is everybody saying that?" I shouted, struggling to suppress the urge to throw my chair into the wall, "I'm not different! I'm the same! It's everybody else that's changed!"_

_"Hermione, please, lower your voice."_

_I sat down, inhaling and exhaling as deeply as possible. _

_"I've made an appointment for you at St Mungo's-"_

_"-There's absolutely nothing wrong with me!" I protested, "Go send the others!"_

_"Hermione," his stern, quiet voice cuts into me like a knife in butter, "It's mandatory you attend."_

_"I'm not going. I'm not mad."_

_"I'm not saying you're mad, just-coping."_

_I stared. He met my furious eyes calmly. "Harry and Ron are very worried about you, and so is Ginny. They believe-"_

_"-They don't know me!" I exploded, "They don't know anything about me! They are-"_

_"-Your best friends. They know, they just don't understand."_

_"-_**_Ex _**_best friends," I sneered, "your information is a tad outdated."_

_He pushed a piece of parchment towards me. It's a referral letter, and a request that he be notified of the results immediately. Like I'm a nut-case that needs to be monitored twenty-four seven._

_"This afternoon at three o'clock. Don't be late." He turned back to the stack of papers on his desk._

_I'm dismissed._

On the other side of the wall, I heard Harry returning home from work. He sighed tiredly, and turned on the faucet. For once, I'm glad about the thin walls.

I fell into an uneasy slumber, the sound of running water washed away my nightmares.

* * *

**Location: Ron's flat, London. **

**Time: 9.26 am, the day of departure.**

I scowled. "Really?" I accused, "lanterns?"

"Hey!" Ginny protested, "they're pretty!"

"I'm not going to Asia. Though I suppose they _are_ nice."

Ginny beamed. "I spent the entire week planning this. I hope you like your Bon Voyage party."

"It's fantastic," I said, though I think she missed the sarcasm in my voice.

The party started an hour ago, and nearly everybody I knew had come to say goodbye. There was music (the horrible Weird Sisters) blaring through the radio, and the food was made by Molly, though most was already gone before I had arrived. Lanterns in all sorts of colors floated mid-air, giving Ron's grungy flat an almost refined atmosphere, in spite of the fire whisky bottles scattered around the floor. Everybody had came over to my little corner and said they will miss me, but I caught the guarded look in their eyes. I pretended to be all pleasant and smothered my reproach with smiles, and they grinned back, relieved that the sessions were working.

Harry came over, bottle of butter beer in one hand, and wrapped the other arm around Ginny. "My two favorite girls," he said, and took a swig.

"Women," Ginny corrected. Then she frowned at him, "and what's this about putting Malfoy and her in the same apartment?"

Harry looked slightly ashamed of himself. Slightly. "Budget cuts," he shrugged, as if in apology.

"So I can't take Crookshanks?" I asked, "No cat-sized room that faces west?"

"And no Popeye rubber duck," he said, sounding absolutely delighted while maintaining an apologetic expression, "or surround-sound. Though I think I managed to get you headphones."

"Gee, what would I do without you?" I said. Again, the sarcasm flew above their heads. Harry grinned at me.

"I told Ginny chocolate chip cookies only," he supplied. "No raisins. No Malfoy, either." _Was he expecting a pat on the back for a job well done? _

Ron, with his hands entwined with Lavender's stumbled into me. "Oh Merlin-sorry, Hermione. Bloody hangover-you know how it is."

Ginny hid a smile behind her bottle. She knew that I've never gotten drunk before.

"Oh, yes," I said, rather smoothly. "I'm sorry about last night by the way. I needed my sleep."

He waved a hand, "we were too loud. Should have thought to put up a spell. Anyway, Lav volunteered to take care of Crooks."

"How lovely!" I said, "but I already booked a room in the cat hotel."

"You're saying," Harry realized, "that you didn't mean _any_ of your terms?"

"Of course I did! I meant every word. I just didn't believe it was possible for you."

It was his turn to scowl.

My phone buzzed. I'd never thought I'd love the little rectangle so much. "That's my taxi downstairs. See you guys in a year's time!"

Was it my imagination, or did they all look relieved? I brushed it away as an aftereffect of sleep deprivation.

Ron and Harry helped load my luggage into the boot, while the rest of them looked from the window upstairs. The driver, a short, portly man, gasped as he saw the three of us in all of our morning glory, complete with uncombed hair, sleep wrinkles and drool trails.

"May-may I have your autographs, please?" He stammered, summoning a quill and a newspaper article. The photo was the one they took right after Voldemort's body was buried, the three of us hand in hand looking upwards. We were so hopeful, then, and so naive and stupid. Kudos to the photographer for capturing the last true image of us united. Now it was all fake smiles and lying compliments. _Ah, friendship and politics._

Harry nodded, ever so polite and gracious. He signed his name professionally and passed it onto Ron, who stared at the photo for a few minutes, his bloodshot eyes glazing over.

"Your name," I prodded. He came back to life and scribbled something down. I did, too, with an extra smiley face, and gave the wrinkled paper back to the driver.

"Thank you!" He exclaimed, tucking it away preciously, "My daughter will be so pleased!"

"That's somebody," Ron muttered.

Not wanting to break the man's illusion of us being best buds, Harry and Ron hugged me. It still felt awkward, even thought we had mended our relationship- tentatively- months ago. I patted them each on the back like good children and sat onto the leather backed seats, strapping on the seatbelt.

"Have fun," Harry waved, "Don't let the ferret drive you up the wall!"

"What, and ruin my book?" I asked, horrified, "I thought you said it was going to be a bestseller!"

He glanced at the confused driver, "Ah, yeah," he said hastily. _The image, Hermione! The image! _His eyes shouted.

Ron just nodded, hands stuck in his pockets. He had tears in his eyes, and the driver mistook them for sadness at leaving me into the clutches of the muggles.

"She'll be back," he said, unnecessarily.

"Huh?" Harry nudged him with his elbow. Hard. "Oh, yeah, miss you."

Ron blinked, and as if on cue, a tear trickled down his cheek. The sunlight must be killing his hungover eyes. The driver took out his handkerchief and blew his nose.

"Friendship," he sighed, "So beautiful." Then he shut my door and climbed into the driver's seat.

I finished the act by leaning out the window, watching their disappearing figures as they climbed the stairs back to the party. Waving until we turned the corner at last and I could sit back again.

"A year isn't that long," he said sympathetically, "and I heard that Malfoy boy is reformed. A true ladies' gentlemen."

I covered my snort by coughing.

"Yeah," I said, trying to not snicker, "a real gentleman."

* * *

**Location: On a plane-Economy class.**

**Time: 2.15 pm**

I felt like strangling him.

Malfoy leaned across me, flirting with the flight attendant as if she was genuinely interested in him. _It's her job!_ I screamed silently,_ Just take your goddamn Sprite and let her serve someone else!_

"When do you get off?" he was saying, the charm knob inside his head turned all the way to maximum.

She giggled, and fluttered her eyelashes. "I can't tell you, since you're a customer. _But_-" she bent down, her breasts brushing against my almost non-existent ones. I had to sit on my hands to not slap her in the face.

"But?" Malfoy asked, softly, seductively.

"But, if you wait for me in the Arrival hall, I_ could_ give you my number," she winked.

"And perhaps you _could _offer me a city tour too?"

"Well, I do know_ all_ the best places." _Yeah, you would, wouldn't you? All the best brothels and strip shows._

"I'm sorry to break in, but as a female like you, I feel I have to warn you that he was just diagnosed with gonorrhea," I butted in.

She withdrew immediately, "Oh!" She said, then quickly regained composure, "Oh, uhm. Sorry, somebody is calling me." She hurried away without so much as a glance over her shoulder.

Malfoy slumped back into his chair. "Just because you're jealous," he bit out, "doesn't mean you have the right to scare off all the beautiful women. And what is gonorrhea?"

"A big reptilian pet," I said, as straight faced as possible. "Doctors prescribe them for crazies."

"So where's yours?"

"Oh, haha," I said, "I'm not crazy."

He winked, "but of course you are, you're crazy for _me._"

I noticed he had several pieces of paper in his hand. It looked like a computer print out. "What are you reading?" I asked suspiciously.

He held it up. "Homework."

In size 16 Times New Roman font (I shuddered), were the words: '100 BEST PICK-UP LINES."

"Oh Merl- I mean, _Oh My God_."

"Here's my favorite," he cleared his throat, "Do I know you? Because you look a lot like my next girlfriend."

"Yeah, real smooth," I said sarcastically, "I'm totally in love with you right now."

"Ew, God," He recoiled from me, "you're totally disgusting."

Breathe in. Out. In. Out.

I turned so my back was towards his face. "Just so you know," I informed him, "As soon as the plane touches down-I don't know you."

"We're going to be living together."

"As total strangers. I'm making a schedule, and you better stick to it."

He sighed. "This is worse punishment than being forced to shower naked with ten other guys."

A man, sitting across from him, glanced at us. Malfoy stared right back.

"All those_ bodies_," he stressed, "and man, when you reach down to pick up that bar of soap-"

The man stood up and rushed away.

"I love muggle movies," Malfoy said, happily, "I learned so much!"

"What the hell did Graham teach you?" I muttered.

Too annoyed to even listen to him breathe, I plucked the earphones from the seat pocket and clamped it over my ears. Scrolling through the playlist I had made earlier, I picked my favorite song to listen to when I'm mad, and turned the volume as loud as possible. _Terry Tee's _totally rad slashing of his guitar, and his angry emotions bleeding into his lyrics and falsetto voice rocked me to a peaceful slumber.

But even he couldn't erase Malfoy from my life.

* * *

Here be a second dreaded Author's note:

Writing this made me feel happy. More happy than when I wrote _Truth of Time_, because writing _that_ made me feel depressed, trying to imagine my favourite characters dead and all that. Well, I hoped you liked the first chapter (more of a prologue, really) and please review!


	2. Chapter 2

So here's Chapter Two! Thanks for the reviews :)

I should point out that my timeline is completely off. Instead of being set in 2000 or late 90s, my story is set in 2012. Should have done more homework, haha.

Anyway, enjoy and please review!

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**Tahoma City**

The apartment Harry chose wasn't half bad. Circling the entire building was a sturdy fence with security cameras perched on every corner. As we walked through the iron-wrought gates, the first thing we saw was a three-tiered fountain and a statue of a graceful woman frozen in a dance pose on top. It stood in the middle of a well kept garden, and I found it hard to keep walking and not stop and admire the flowers blooming on the side.

"Look at her chest!" Malfoy ogled, "You see them, Granger? Now those are proper ones, not-" he had the nerve to look at me up and down, "-well," he sniggered, "I shouldn't put you down so early in the morning."

According to my watch, set correctly in the local time, it was a little past seven and the sun was already high and shining.

I tried to not think about murdering the little brat.

The landlord, snoozing comfortably in the lobby, struggled to her feet when I tapped her on the shoulder.

"Mrs Greyfeather?" I asked, an eyebrow arched.

She blinked at me, then gasped. "Oh my goodness! I fell asleep!"

_You don't say, Sherlock._

Hobbling to the elevator, she used her walking cane to push the up button. "Oh you'll absolutely love the place- it's fully furnished, and I just installed a new heating system…" I tuned her out, though Malfoy seemed to be listening intently, the suck-up git.

The elevators were made of glass, and I took the opportunity to gaze out at the city as it came to life. It seemed like a sleepy dwelling, since there still wasn't many cars on the road, and people were walking half the speed they did back in London, pausing every now and then to peer into closed shop windows.

"The university is just there," Mrs Greyfeather pointed to a cluster of modern-looking buildings set on top of a small hill. "It's a bit of a climb, mind you, but the view is amazing."

I cringed. _Great, _I thought, _exercise._

"Tahoma seems like a really friendly town," Malfoy said earnestly, trying to earn brownie points.

The lady smiled, "it is, and we don't get many foreigners here! Don't you worry dear," she patted him on his arm, "the young ladies here enjoy men with accents."

I turned my laugh into a choke, and felt her thump my back. For a short, skinny and old woman, she sure was strong.

"There's a thermos of my secret winter drink in the kitchen," she told me, "a small sip and you're set to brave the cold."

Though it was summer in London, it was winter here. Not that I would call it winter; apparently it never snows, and the lowest the temperature would go is seven degrees.

"I'll be fine, thank you," I plastered on my best oily smile.

"My granddaughter is attending her first year as well-perhaps you might share some classes together!"

"Oh?" Asked Malfoy, "What did she apply for?"

"She'll be taking some science papers, I think."

Malfoy nodded, "us, too. Wouldn't it be uber-cool if your granddaughter and I became friends?"

Uber-cool? _Seriously?_ Where did he learn that word? And I totally noticed the 'I', Malfoy. Real smooth, sucking up to the grandma before checking out the girl. Though I admit our landlord must've been a real looker back in her day, before arthritis and wrinkles took over.

The elevator dinged when it reached the sixth floor, and she ushered us out. "Call me May," she said, reaching into her purse.

"As in, now is the month of maying?"

She actually giggled. I'm astounded.

I spare her the pain of rummaging in her bottom-less bag, and bring out my key.

"Thanks, love." She unlocked the door to number 6-K and beamed as we looked inside.

It wasn't terribly small, or spacious, but just enough for two people to live here comfortably without tripping each other up. The door opened to a living room with a large couch facing a small television, and a coffee table sandwiched in between them. To our left was the kitchen, with the promised thermos glinting on the bench top, and to our right were two doors that must lead to our respective bedrooms.

We walked in and left our bags in the middle of the living room. May reached for the curtains and pulled them open. Sunlight streamed in, and suddenly, I realized that I could actually picture myself lying on the couch and reading my days away with a mug of hot cocoa.

_Nice going, Harry. I'll let you go just this once._

"The two bedrooms come with their own bathrooms," she winked at me, and I sort of smiled back. "They're about the same in size, although the wardrobe is bigger in this one." She pointed to the room furthest inwards.

"So that'd be yours, then," Malfoy said, sweetly.

May smiled fondly at him. "You're such a gentleman! Lucky you!" She said to me. I tried not to gag.

"Oh, we're not together," I said hastily, "just old classmates."

"Hmm, well I sure hope you find a young man just as good as this one!"

I ignored her and dragged my bags to my new room. Malfoy grabbed her attention again and thanked her for the lovely apartment.

My room for the next year was painted a delicate lilac, which I detested. It was too bright and happy, and my mood was foul after realizing -again- that I was to live with that darned ferret in such close quarters. At least the bedspread was a neutral dark blue.

I dumped the suitcase containing my muggle clothes and set up to unpack. Dresses and jackets went onto hangers and into the wardrobe. Jeans and shirts were folded and organized into separate drawers. Scarves and hats at the bottom of the wardrobe, and my two other pairs of shoes sat beside them. I opened my pencil case and stuck labels onto each drawer, and color coded the hangers. Blue for winter, red for summer, and white for everything else. I didn't have special autumn or spring clothing.

"God, OCD much?"

Now that May had left, after showing him the list of emergency numbers and other important details stuck on the fridge, he shed his pleasing manner and leaned against my doorway, his brow wrinkled in contempt.

"And-holy!"

"What?" I snapped. "It's a pair of knickers, get over yourself."

But he wasn't staring at the rest of my clothes; he had his eyes fixed on my other suitcase, the one with all my books and CDs. He picked up a disc that had fallen out of its cover and studied the photo on it.

"This is a seriously weird band," he commented, and tossed it on my bed. I snatched it up and turned it over to see if he had scratched it.

"They are one of the best," I informed him stiffly.

"The lead singer wears _eye liner_," he said, "and he shaved half of his hair off and dyed the rest _blue_."

"So?" I demanded, "_Crippled Anger _creates art, who cares what they look like?"

He grabbed another CD. "Terry Tee," he read.

"Amazing guitar player, and his voice- _sa-woon_!" I'd forgotten who I was talking to and sighed a bit.

He cocked his head and stared at me. "I'd thought you hated music, since you protested about the Weird Sisters playing at the Yule Ball."

I wrinkled my nose. "The Weird Sisters play horrible stuff. I mean, just listen to their lyrics! '_We'll summon you like crazy, it's just like magic!'_ It's what a four year old would write using spaghetti. And their instrumentals suck, like a cat scratching on a blackboard suck. Not to mention they don't stick to one style- their songs are all over the place. Like 'Cauldron of Warts' is it rock? Pop? Rap? Classical? It doesn't even-"

"-Whoa, so, I'm going to stop you here right _now_ before I die. Just saying that May left me her copy of the key so I don't need you to act as doorman." He edged away, as if I was crazy. "And also: hi, I'm Draco Malfoy, your new flat mate. Who are you?"

I scowled.

"What?" he asked, "we don't know each other, remember?"

"Hermione Granger," I replied, just to make him leave. "Your worst nightmare."

"Sounds about right," he muttered, and went into his own room.

I plugged in my laptop and slid the _Crippled Anger_ CD in, turning the volume way high. I danced around a bit, and then continued writing labels for the next hour, bobbing my head in rhythm to the fast beat.

* * *

"Hermione!" Malfoy knocked on my door. "You have a visitor!"

His voice sounded strange-pleasant, even. I stopped the CD and peered outside.

Well, what do you know? My cousin Cecelia sitting on the couch, sipping a glass of orange juice Malfoy had poured for her. He hovered, oozing fake nervousness outside my room.

"Ceecee!" I hugged her, "How'd you find me?"

She waved her phone, "technology. Your mum called me up. God! It must've been, what, five years since we last saw each other?"

"Six," I corrected, "Maple's party, remember?"

She laughed, "Oh yeah, how could I have forgotten? Maple was-"

"-Thrown into the pool," we said together, then fell about laughing again.

Malfoy cleared his throat meaningfully. He looked at Cecelia and then at me, his eyebrows raised.

I sighed.

"Ceecee, my flatmate, Mal- I mean, Draco."

To my cousin's credit, she just nodded in greeting. I think Malfoy looked a bit taken aback. No doubt he was wondering why his charisma wasn't working on this girl. _Tough luck ferret, she's a Granger, and we don't fall so easily._

"Why weren't you at Grandma's seventieth?" I asked, getting up and pouring a glass of juice for myself. From the corner of my eye, I saw Malfoy slinking back into his room, defeated. Weird, normally he would persevere until he got a promise to call him and a sly wink.

Ceecee shrugged, "I was busy," she said vaguely, "school, applications…"

I decided to let it go. "So where are you living?"

"Just downstairs, in 5-F," she beamed. "Coincidence, much?"

I frowned, "doubt it. I heard the building was built for students. Though why did you come all the way _here _to study?"

She bumped my shoulder playfully, "change of scenery, just like you."

"Well, it's nice to have a familiar face around. Cheers," we clinked glasses together and drank up.

"Are you going to O-week?"

"O-week?" I took our empty glasses and washed them straight away. I hated dirty dishes.

"Orientation week, you know, where we could sign up to all the cool clubs and get to know others."

I shuddered at the thought of jostling my way through a crowd of hormonally-high uni students. "Uh, yeah, no. I'll pass."

"Her-mi-oh-knee," Ceecee pleaded, "Come on, this is college! You've got to have a life!"

"I came here to study," and to babysit a prisoner, "Not to get drunk and do drugs."

Ceecee sighed, "Not all events are about booze and getting high. I hear there's a book club- you'll like that, right? There's also a rock 'n' roll club, where they meet up every Friday night at some club that plays all the classics."

Hmm, that didn't sound_ too_ horrible.

"And a broadway club that puts on a show every semester. Apparently it's always a blast, and it's really professionally done. Besides, we're supposed to join at least one club per semester."

"No way," I froze, "that's a lie. Tell me that's a lie."

Ceecee reached into her bag and pulled out the New Students Guide, "See?" She pointed, "It says so right here. '_We believe in a well-rounded education, and therefore strongly urge each and every student to participate in at least one club per semester.' _So, it's settled, you're going to O-week tomorrow with me."

I groaned, and she took the opportunity to pull me away from the sink. "Lunch, and I think you're going to scratch the glasses if you keep scrubbing them," she announced, "I know a perfect little cafe that's near here. Should we invite Draco along?"

"Oh, god no," I said, and she laughed.

"I'm sure you'll become great friends. You have to open up more, Hermione."

I grabbed my keys from my room and joined her in the hallway. "Your treat."

"Done." She looked at Draco's closed door. "Are you sure it's okay? I feel kind of bad leaving him out."

"Don't," I assured her, "He's a misanthropic sort of person, likes his space and privacy."

She didn't look convinced, but nodded, "if you say so."

"Going out to lunch!" I yelled in his direction, and closed the door before he could reply.

* * *

Ceecee took me on a mini tour around the block, showing me, amongst the necessary places, the town library, a record shop, and a place where they sold the best waffles. By the time we got back to the apartment, it was already five in the afternoon, and we were stuffed from eating too much ice cream.

I opened the door and tripped, landing painfully on my butt.

"MALFOY!" I roared, wincing as I stood up again. An empty pizza box sat innocently beneath me, and, to my greatest annoyance, it had been only a few feet from the rubbish bin.

"MALFOY!" I yelled again, ramming my knuckles against his door.

"Just a minute," I heard him say, "I'll be right back."

He poked his head through the gap. "Make it quick, Granger, I've got ladies to entertain."

"Introduce us!" A tall, slender girl with perfect blonde curls peered at me from under his arm. "Is she your flatmate?"

He sighed, "yeah."

"Hi! I'm Stephanie. I live next door-we've got some pizza and some munchies, want some?" Looks-wise, she reminded me strongly of Pansy Parkinson. God, he sure knew how to pick them.

"No, thanks," I said frostily.

"Um, okay," she looked taken aback at my abrupt rejection, and looked behind her. "Well, it's nice to meet you," she trailed off, and disappeared.

"So?" Malfoy asked rudely, "What do _you_ want?"

"Rubbish goes into the bin," I snapped, "And don't use a pizza box as a welcome mat. It's gross."

"It's inspirational," he said, "and if that's all you need to say-" he began to close the door.

I stuck my foot in the doorway. "Not so fast, gingerbread man," I said.

"Gingerbread man?" I heard another girl's voice echo.

We ignored her. "Don't you think you should tell me if you were inviting company over?"

"Like how you told me about your cousin?"

"I didn't let her in," I said, "you did. Which meant you were okay with her."

"Steph and Tory are awesome," he said. I pretended he was talking about their personalities, and not their bouncy curves.

"I'm_ sure_ they're are. But there are rules to how it works- next time, clear it with me first." I removed my foot and slammed the door shut myself.

"Wow, she's strict," I heard Stephanie mutter, "Drake, you sure you don't want the last piece?"

I dumped the groceries I'd bought into the pantry and fridge and stomped into my room. Ceecee had taken me to the bank just before, and I checked the funds in my bank account. It was just enough to cover a month's worth of necessities. Stupid budget cuts.

Malfoy's laugh was clearly audible, and it was so fake I nearly barfed. I was glad when Stephanie and the other girl didn't giggle along.

"That's not nice," she chided, "you're going to be living together. You have to be the bigger man and make peace, despite your history."

Hmph, so he had been talking about_ me._

Well, his party sucked anyway. Greasy pizza and 'munchies' do not equal a good time. To reward Stephanie for not being the stuck-up I thought she was, I jammed in _Caroline Reese's_ newest hit and let it blast through the walls.

_Thank me later_, I thought, and opened a textbook.

* * *

"Hermione?"

I groaned. It was Stephanie.

"Hermione, would you like to join us? We're going to The Bar."

"I don't drink," I said, and flipped a page of my Biology textbook.

"The Bar isn't, well, a bar," she explained, her voice muffled, "they serve the best cakes- it's an all-you-can-eat buffet and everything there is dessert."

I thought for a moment. Cakes sounded good. I liked cakes. I leaned over and shut my laptop down.

"It's about a twenty minute walk, so dress up warmly! Tory and I will meet you in the hallway in five."

"I didn't even say I was going," I muttered, but I was already pulling on a scarf and a coat.

Malfoy was cleaning up in the kitchen, actually tearing up the cardboard boxes and throwing the non-stained ones into the recycling bin. If he wasn't, you know, _Malfoy_, I might even develop a crush on him.

He turned around at the sound my door closing, and huffed in annoyance. "You couldn't say no, could you, mountain troll with a bottom-less stomach?"

"Not your greatest line, I'm afraid," I said. And then I winced, because mine was pretty horrible too.

"Jet lag," I added hastily.

He wrapped on a scarf and gingerly opened the thermos. A strong, bitter smell of lemons and ginger wafted across the room and straight up my nose. I snorted furiously, coughing.

"God!"

He didn't look so eager to drink it too. "I'll just-" He opened a random cupboard and pushed it all the way back. "May doesn't need to know."

For once, I agreed with his actions wholeheartedly, except- "Put it in the cupboard next to it," I pointed.

He arched an eyebrow, "Why?"

I marched over and pointed out the labels I had made. "Liquids," I gestured, "and Dry. You put the thermos in the wrong one."

He started, "Oh! Did you hear that?"

I frowned, listening hard, "What?"

"The sound of me not giving a slightest damn about your labels."

_Hermione: 1, Malfoy: 1_. I'm not pleased about the tie.

Since he wasn't going to do it, I reached onto tiptoes and felt around for the thermos. To my annoyance and frustration, I was too short. Malfoy stood behind me, arms crossed, and shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

"I hate you," I grumbled.

"Believe me, it's totally mutual."

I heard footsteps outside, and Stephanie's voice. "You guys ready?"

"I am," Malfoy called back, "Hermione here, though…"

I resorted to climbing on the bench, gripping the top of his head (and pulling out a few strands of hair) for balance and pulled the vile drink out. Triumphantly, I stuck it into the right cupboard and jump down.

He's staring at the fallen hair, dumbstruck.

"It'll grow back," I said sweetly, "unlike your manhood."

The look on his face was priceless. It was my turn to point and laugh. Everybody in the wizarding community knew about how Pansy controlled Malfoy, setting him restrictions and curfews. She could do that because to be a Parkinson meant so much more than a Malfoy now. Something to do with her father buying all the shares to Gringotts or something.

I let him lock the door. Stephanie was wearing a low cut shirt showing her assets in full glory, while the other girl, who must be Tory, was wrapped from head to toe.

"Careful," I said, "They might tumble out." I stared at Stephanie's breasts.

To my surprise, Tory cracked a smile, making her thin face light up. I wondered if Malfoy only invited her to his place because of Stephanie, since she was just as flat as I am, and her chestnut hair hung limply on her shoulders. I liked her on the spot.

"I know," Stephanie moaned, tugging the shirt up. "But the rest of my clothes don't arrive until tomorrow, when Ben gets here. I mixed up the wrong bag with my little sister's."

"Ben?" That was Malfoy, who tried to not look curious.

"My boyfriend," She explained, "He was extended his stay in America-his flight arrives tomorrow."

I think I like her, too. They made Malfoy go all spluttery and disappointed.

"I also invited some other friends, I hope you don't mind. But we're a tight knit group here." Stephanie pressed the button while we waited for the elevator doors to open.

"Of course not," Malfoy assured her, all charm and graciousness, "the more the merrier."

_Kill me. Now. _

It turned out her other friends included Ceecee. I concluded that if Stephanie liked Ceecee, then she was definitely friend material. I really should thank Malfoy later for introducing us. Oh, the irony.

The other two were confident-looking guys. The taller one, with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, wore a t-shirt and shorts as if it wasn't eight degrees outside, and was chatting up the receptionist. I caught Malfoy smile behind me. Like attracts like, after all.

The other had blonde hair as well, but dull hazel eyes. He wore the proper attire for attacking winter, and looked almost bored.

"Draco, Hermione, this is Ceecee, Alex, and George," Stephanie waved to them as we neared.

Alex turned and flickered his eyes up and down on me. Then, as if unimpressed, continued forcing his number on the poor girl. George nodded a greeting, and yawned.

"Jet lag," he explained. "Flight got in two hours ago."

I didn't answer him, because he reminded me too much of Harry with that slouch and slow pacing gait.

"We're going to eat, not camp," Ceecee giggled. She had caught sight of my handbag.

"It might get boring," I unzipped it and showed her my portable CD player, and the stack of albums I'd packed.

"Terry Tee, Crippled Anger, Caroline Reese, The Torched… Good stuff," Tory sounded pleased, which made me pleased. It's nice to know there are appreciators of good music out there.

"What, no iPod?" Alex sauntered over, poking his over-inflated ego into my line of sight.

"What, no mind-you-own-business?" I snapped.

He backed off, hands raised in the ear. "Hey chill down, Angry."

I could already see him and Malfoy, hand in hand and skipping together down the streets, whispering about me and giggling like fools. A match made in heaven.

We made our way outside, with Stephanie leading and Tory trailing behind. Malfoy and I maintained a steady two metre gap between us. Which was easy, since he had decided Alex was his best friend, and Alex didn't seem to like me very much too. _Good._

It wasn't that cold, and the walk warmed me. I pulled off the scarf and scrunched it into my bag. Ceecee was too busy chatting to George, whose eyelids kept closing, so I made do with my music, stepping to the rhythm.

Tory tapped me on the shoulder. "Mind sharing?"

I studied her, then nodded. She took an earphone and bobbed her head to the beat. "That's a real classic," she breathed, "The Torch at their finest."

"Yeah, their newest stuff isn't that great," I agreed, "ever since Ricky quit." He was the band's ex-drummer.

"Frankie just can't live it up like Ricky." We both fell silent, and let the song propel us forward. When it finished, I changed the CD to _Drowning's_ album _'Silent Silver' _and she sighed in approval.

"You know, you should join our club."

I squinted suspiciously at her.

She laughed, "It's not so much a club, more of a service. We run the Uni's only radio station, and we're short on people this year."

I thought for a moment, then dismissed the idea. "I want to join something that doesn't require work."

"Well, the rock 'n' roll club is good if you're a regular member," she said slowly, "and the Tee's is nice, too."

"Tee's?"

"A fan club dedicated to Terry Tee. They sort of just meet up once a month and discuss how hot he is."

"I like the sound of that."

She laughed. "Me, too."

I missed this. Making friends. I probably should do it more often.

Tory isn't like anybody I know. She doesn't speak up a lot when she doesn't feel the need to, but if it just so happens she knows the topic, then she talks and talks until all awkwardness evaporates. We clicked, immediately, and I know I've just found my first muggle best-friend. It's a bit like falling in love at first sight, really, minus the flirting and batting eyelashes or whatever it is people do when they fall into the clutches of phenylethylamine.

Stephanie got us seated around a round table. It was quite obvious she's the leader of the little group. It's also quite obvious that George has a crush on her. I wondered if Ben knew.

"Tuck in," she beamed.

I immediately head to the Cheesecake area, piling them up on my plate as if it was my last. I thought about my bank account, and realized it probably_ was_ my last.

"A moment on the lips, forever on your hips," Malfoy sang as he passed by.

"I'm confiscating your movies," I scowled. It turned out Graham had given him DVDs of chick-flick films as the basis of his study. Malfoy had actually contemplated aloud during the plane ride, whether he should become the nerdy-adorable guy who gets the girl in the end, or the popular jock type who sleeps around and get worshipped by. It didn't take two brain cells to figure out which one he decided on.

Then, he suddenly walked back to me. "You brought money, right?"

"_Duh._ But this is going to be our last outing until we find jobs."

"Stupid budget cuts," he grumbled, and stomped away.

I noticed that out of the seven of us, we ate the most. It became an unspoken competition, who could fit in more cakes. He won-but only because I hated raisins. Who the hell put those disgusting things into a _sponge cake_?

By the end, I could barely move without feeling the urge to vomit. Ceecee and Tory half carried, half dragged me back up the road, and even Alex seemed nice about the whole affair. I think it was more due to the fact that the top of Ceecee's knickers showed when she hauled my arm around her shoulders though. I caught the little glint in his perverted eyes.

When we finally made it back, Malfoy disappeared straight into his room. I told Tory, Ceecee, and Stephanie good night, and put the kettle on. I rummaged around in the proper cupboard for the teabags I'd bought, and waited for the water to boil.

"Is that tea I smell?"

I groaned, "Go back into your room."

Instead, he walked over and sniffed, "Chamomile," he said, "excellent."

"I know," I poured the water into my mug and let the tea steep. He just stood there.

"Aren't you going to offer me one?"

I stared, horrified, "of course not!"

He sneered, "the world must make sense after all."

"Thank the heavens you remember." But since it was our first day being isolated from everything we knew for the last decade, I don't put away the teabags. I even made sure there was enough hot water in the kettle.

"O-week tomorrow," he reminded me. His way of saying Thank You, I supposed.

"Have a romantic date with Alex." I waved-my way of saying Good Night and Wash Everything Up After.

My poor body, who still thought it was four in the morning, crumbled onto the bed almost immediately. I finished the tea and clamped on my headphones, deciding that the slow, breathy voice of Caroline Reese should be able to keep those horrid memories at bay.

It did, sort of.


End file.
